


A Place Outside of Time

by Finlaena



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Id Fic, Post-Canon, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finlaena/pseuds/Finlaena
Summary: Weakness was a dangerous word during the apex of Kain’s empire. With his mind purged of corruption and feeling the full gravity of his choices, Kain finds himself becoming less invincible and more vulnerable... and with the unlikely aid of a pair of vampire-sympathetic humans, finds this may not be a bad thing per se.orAfter getting his butt handed to him by the Hylden, Kain learns how to just _be_.Repost from 2019
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	A Place Outside of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short story I'd written during a rather difficult time back in 2019. I still like it enough to repost it, and I hope you find some sort of enjoyment with it, too. 
> 
> This takes place post-canon at an unknown point in time, so Kain is more lucid/is purified; I'd imagine his brain would still be pretty fucked up, tbbh.

Weakness; a word that could be defined depending upon the context. A word that struck a mortal fear in the hearts of the prideful, rendering them into the type of coward they despised.

Lucky for Kain, he had no heart.

He was, however, physically weak… and lost.

He wasn’t entirely sure of the how or why, he only knew that during a bitter fight in the Demon Realm against the Hylden, he had been knocked out and ended up back in Nosgoth, at some undetermined point in time and lying prone in a forest.

How humiliating.

Rolling over, Kain lifted himself up and sat on the ground, his legs loosely crossed; an arm supporting his weight as he struggled to regain his senses. His cloak was tattered; his leather trousers shredded on one leg and his skin covered in Hylden blood. His long, silken white hair was disheveled; matted.

If his corrupted self were to have seen him now, he would have murdered him right then and there for how pathetic he looked.

A cursory glance of his surroundings yielded mountains, red skies, and lush vegetation. Odd, considering he had single handedly destroyed Nosgoth’s ecosystem via his corruption. Kain wondered if he had been flung further backward into Nosgoth’s past.

“H—hello there!”

Kain rose to his feet, alert. He instinctively reached behind him for the Soul Reaver, but his claws gripped only air.

‘ _No…_ ’ Kain’s already muddled brain raced. ‘ _It must be around here!_ ’

As he searched the premises for the sword, Kain saw a human heading towards him, waving a hand in the air. The voice, though not threatening, still put him in a defensive state. “Hello, stranger! Are you alright? I see you’re finally up and ab---”

Kain darted towards the stranger, and promptly grabbed him by the collar of his robes and, with great force, pinned him against a tree. The human was unarmed and appeared to nothing more than a peasant. No one worth killing... but someone worth interrogating.

Leaning in close, Kain’s red eyes caused the human, who appeared to be a male, to freeze in the midst of his flailing. “Tell me, human, _where_ is my weapon?”

“Hhhhh—“ whimpered the human. He wasn’t putting up a fight in the slightest. The poor creature braced himself against the tree; his knees buckling and quivering. “M-m-my husband found a s-sword in our c-c-crops earlier!”

Realizing that, for as defenseless as this person was, he wouldn’t get a straight answer with brute force, Kain, in what his men would have considered a moment of weakness, let go of the man’s shirt collar and allowed the human to drop to his feet.

Much to Kain’s muted surprise, the human didn’t attempt to flee, perhaps having realized he wasn’t under threat of imminent death.

“Tell me _exactly_ what it looked like,” Kain hissed.

The human outstretched his arms. “Long like this! Had a skull with wings an’ the most serpentine-looking blade!” He pointed to his right. “We brought it into the house so bandits wouldn’t get it, but we haven’t touched it since!” He clasped his hands together. “Please, vampire, have mercy! My husband and I are simple farmers and crafters. We can give you lodging for daytime and—“

Kain held up his three-pronged claws, silencing the human immediately. “Take me to my weapon, and I will leave you be.”

“You… you mean you’re not going to kill me?”

Kain could feel one of his eyes twitching in mild annoyance.

* * *

With little fanfare, Kain had been reunited with the Soul Reaver, and rather than simply killing the pair that found it, like he would have in times past, he remained true to his word and left them alone.

That is, until the other human -who was of a stocky, rugged stature and nearly every inch of his exposed skin covered in hair- became fascinated with his presence, and requested he stay with them a little longer.

It was most certainly an odd request, given Kain had assaulted the man’s spouse not that long ago. What truly piqued Kain’s interest was that, once the dust had settled, this new individual was not afraid of him and his vampiric form, or his intimidating presence for that matter.

Neither of them didn’t know exactly _who_ he was, either, after telling them his name. Given his infamy, this was perhaps a blessing in disguise.

* * *

The farmers introduced themselves as Timothy (the one that found Kain) and Ricard (the one that found the Soul Reaver). Ricard, the brashest of the two, related the story of how he was feeding their horses, when he heard a loud, incomprehensible noise that could not be described by mere words alone. The sword had allegedly manifested itself out of thin air, to which he suggested that is how Kain ended up there (wherever _there_ was).

“I swear, I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Ricard said, as he carried a plate filled with bread and flagons of ale. “You don’t expect odd happenings like this in the Sabebas Valley.”

Sabebas Valley… Kain struggled to think of where in Nosgoth that was; it had been so long since he had looked at a map. The name did not ping any bells.

“Quite right,” Timothy nodded. “I was stunned to see you there, too,” he gestured to Kain. “We’ve seen vampires here and there in the valley before, but never anyone like _you_. Where are you from, anyhow?”

Kain paused, taken slightly off guard by the question. He could have chastised them -to put it lightly- for asking what could constitute as a personal question. Maybe even strike them both down with one blow and use their corpses for feed.

Yet, exhaustion clinged to him tightly.

He would let his guard down, just this once.

“Coorhagen.”

Timothy and Ricard exchanged puzzled looks.

“Isn’t that far up north?” Timothy took a sip from his mug. “Where the vampires took over and sacked Meridian?”

“‘Tis,” Kain purposefully omitted the fact that it was he who eventually leveled Meridian (with the aid of his Lieutenants) as a show of force and to establish that he was the ruler of Nosgoth... but that neither here nor there. “And where, pray tell, is _here_?”

Ricard swallowed a large chunk of bread. “Sabebas Valley is far south of Coorhagen. Far, _far_ south. We got lucky in missing out on all the madness up north.”

“So you say.” Kain eyed with suspicion the flagon of ale that Timothy was gently pushing towards him. “This valley is conspicuously in good health.”

“I know!” Ricard exclaimed, wildly. “It is the oddest thing. We were taught that the Pillars controlled the health of the land. I always thought it was across everything. I reckon that is not quite the case now.”

Right as Kain opened his mouth, he slumped in his seat. The hunger had grown too great at this point; he needed _sustenance_. Ale, though once a beloved drink in his days as a human, would not do. He clutched his stomach and tried to sit up.

“Are you alright?!” Timothy exclaimed.

Kain held a claw up, freezing the humans where they stood. “I need sustenance. I have not fed since before I was forcibly ejected from the Demon Realm….”

Ricard shook his head. “If it’s blood you need---”

“Ricard! You’re not suggesting---”

Ricard threw his arms up wildly in the air. “Look, he could have killed us believing we stole that sword from him. And what are you _thinking_ of giving him ale?” He swatted the flagon away from Kain. “That is no sustenance for a vampire!”

Timothy’s brow furrowed. “I understand you grew up in a family of vampire worshippers, but this is extreme, even by _your_ standards!” He let out a loud sigh. “Oh, fine. I can see there’s no convincing you otherwise.”

If Kain weren’t in the throes of hunger pangs, he would have found the lover’s spat darkly amusing.

* * *

Kain’s hunger was satiated, for now. He was by no means full, but it was enough to stave off the pangs that had been assaulting his stomach. For now, at least.

He watched as Ricard tightened the tourniquet on his arm, ceasing the flow of blood after the cut of the knife. How fascinating to have witnessed a human so willingly offering up their blood to him; no hesitation.

“That should do it.” Ricard’s rough hands shoved the knives and cloth aside.

Such enthusiasm reminded him of Magnus, and how he readily did whatever he asked of him, and more. How he missed that in an individual. Were this human not needed elsewhere, he would have contemplated offering him the dark gift of vampirism as a reward.

“Hmmm… what about your garments? Why not let us repair them for you while you are here,” Ricard offered.

“I have no need for such things.” Kain glanced at his sash, once a vibrant shade of red, now dulled, torn, and a shadow of what it was. Like him, at this moment. He quietly laughed under his breath at the irony of it all.

“I beg to differ, my Lord.” Ricard leaned forward. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve got a burden on your back.”

‘ _If only this simpleton knew_ ,’ Kain’s upper lip turned into a snarl.

“I don’t know what it is you’re after, or where it is you’re going. That isn’t our business,” Ricard said, solemnly. “I know a weary warrior when I see one, and you certainly could use some help shoring up and getting the light reignited inside.”

Kain’s head swayed. “You are a persistent one, human.”

“Please,” Ricard pleaded. “I do leatherwork as a side trade, I could repair those trousers for you, possibly craft new leather armor, too. And we can sew your cloak there back together—“

“But that thing is _ragged_!” Timothy whispered.

Ricard elbowed his husband in the ribs. “You spared our lives when you could have killed us. You could have drained every last ounce of blood within me to feed. Yet, you have done neither. The least we can do is help you while you help yourself.”

Kain pondered Ricard’s words. He was in an unfamiliar part of Nosgoth, in an unfamiliar time. He felt weak (equal parts physical and mental), and while he was no longer blinded by Nupraptor’s corruption, he still needed to clear his mind and develop a new strategy. It would do him no favors to continue his quest in his current state.

And to be frank, being around humans that neither feared or hated him was, admittedly, a welcome change of pace from scores of Hylden and demons tearing the skin off his bones.

“Very well. I shall accept your offer of room and board, but I leave come nightfall.” The elder vampire folded his arms across his chest. “My _only_ request is that you do not disturb my rest.”

“Fair.” Ricard nodded. “We do our crafting out in the barn anyhow.”

* * *

The guest bedroom, on the far end of the house, was now Kain’s temporary space. After turning over his garments to be mended (making sure both humans did not see him without), Kain closed the door and locked it. As helpful as the humans were (a thought that he never expected to cross his mind, ever), he wanted to be left alone. To think, to contemplate, to… be.

His arms outstretched, leaning against the window frame as support, Kain gazed at the world outside.

It dawned on Kain that he had forgotten what it was like to simply _be_.

And so, he decided to exist, in this place outside of time.

No Hylden. No demiurges. No fellow vampires. Nothing.

… Except for himself.

He drew in a deep breath; one that he could feel in the pit of his stomach. If he still had a heart inside him, he would listen to its thrum. Yet there was nothing. He instinctively placed a hand over his breast, expecting to feel the metronome of a heartbeat under it. Nothing.

Kain pulled himself away from the window, and laid down upon the bed. The bed wasn’t like his in his mountain retreat, yet it sufficed. Hell, he couldn’t recall the last time he was in a bed, but it didn’t matter. Lying on his side, with his head turned towards the window, the elder vampire watched the rising sun, and noted the lights in the barn in the distance. How quaint, and so unlike anything he had seen in hundreds of years. Was it because of the lush flora and the vibrant fauna that surrounded him?

Rolling onto his back, he pressed his head into the pillow, staring up at the unremarkable ceiling, with the sound of mourning doves singing outside. If Kain were to be honest with himself, he was relieved to finally have a moment of respite.

It was a rather interesting circumstance, to be sure. He had effectively rendered himself _vulnerable_. Odd as it was -and it was truly odd-, he felt safe enough to let his guard down in this place, wherever and whenever it was.

Kain glanced down at his belly, his claws lightly stroking the soft flesh as it rose and fell with each breath. His hosts had, albeit with a little concern from one half, had allowed him to satiate the intense hunger he felt from the blood curse. It wasn’t enough to fully replenish his strength, but it would do.

His claws lingered there, resting where a scar once was. It still felt odd to him that such a prominent feature of his body was gone. He had grown so accustomed to its presence, even showing it off as a sign of pride; a mark of his rebirth as a vampire.

His eyelids felt heavy. Sleep started to overtake him. And, for once, he did not fight it.

* * *

Upon waking, the elder vampire was not sure how much time had passed since he unwittingly arrived at the Sabebas Valley. He had intended to be there for only a day, yet a cursory glance revealed to him that time did not stand still while he slept: the land was wet from an evening rainfall, and at least one of the animals of the field had been slaughtered for the humans’ sustenance.

As he lay there, drifting in the space between sleep and awake, Kain contemplated his situation further. Now that he had been afforded time to rest, his mind felt a little clearer; less muddled. If Raziel’s purification was what took the blinders off his eyes, then this scrubbed away the scales.

His reverie was abruptly interrupted by a soft knocking on the bedroom door.

“H-hello?” He recognized the voice as that of Timothy’s. “I have your things… Ricard also crafted you new clothing, too. I shall set them outside the door for you.” An anxious pause. “I hope they are to your liking.”

Kain waited until the meekly human left the hall to scoop his belongings up. “Hmm.”

Closing the door behind him, Kain unfurled the leathers on the bed. “Human craftsmanship is woefully inelegant compared to a vampire’s.” He held up one of the gloves, which showed careful detail in each stitch. “Yet, he shows the skills of a master from Willendorf.”

The trousers, once tattered and ripped, had been effortlessly transformed into immaculate form. After pulling them on and fastening the laces, he allowed his talons to gently feel himself from his posterior down the back of his thighs. A touch snug, but it would do.

Kain tilted his head, noticing there was now a semi-matching robe that accompanied it: blackened leather, trimmed with crimson and a hint of gold. Upon putting it on, Kain observed that it was reminiscent of a nobleman’s. He let the robe drape open, exposing his bare chest.

His sash, though still torn in spots, was returned to its shade of crimson. As he had no use of wearing it as he once did, Kain threw it around his neck like a scarf. He couldn’t help but smirk, the irony of him wearing his vaunted garment like Raziel’s cowl was not lost on him. Not in the slightest.

Yet, it felt different, wearing it this way. As if it now signified the changes -both physical and mental- that he had gone through since the purification. Kain tugged at it, pulling it loose enough that it now hung draped over his collarbone.

 _Now_ it felt just right to him.

* * *

Kain’s journey would now take him to the land southeast of Nosgoth: the ‘forbidden lands’, as they had been called by fellow knights in Ottmar’s army. The actual name itself was considered to be unpronounceable.

It did line up with whispers and rumors that Kain had heard years ago: that a country far to the east walled itself off from the rest of the world following the fall of the Pillars, and that same kingdom remained mysteriously untouched by the corruption surrounding it.

Ricard suggested that was also where the Hash’ak’gik cult had been born: its influence infecting the lands to the northwest after one of Kain’s predecessors as Balance Guardian -allegedly- brought it with her. The human quickly admitted he wasn’t completely sure of the exact details, having only heard hearsay from his fellow vampire worshippers. It was enough for Kain.

As the sun set in the Sabebas Valley, Kain deemed his time to depart was now. He turned to face his unlikely benefactors one more -and perhaps final- time, and saw Ricard and Timothy standing in the doorway to their home.

With not even a single word, Kain transformed into a flock of bats, and flew off into the night.


End file.
